But she starts to fight. I had forgotten that part about my horoscope. My horoscope warned me that the girl would change her mind. Stupid of me to forget! Anyway, she really fights hard. I'm surprised. She looks so scrawny.
Somehow she gets away. She starts screaming, so I turn and run. Nobody catches me. A few minutes later, I'm back on the bus headed to my mother's house. I wouldn't be surprised if at about the same time as I'm on the bus, that hooker is back on the Twenty-Seventh Street stroll as though nothing happened. Just another day in the life of a cheap hooker.
But my horoscope is right, because it's still a good day. I learned something. I learned that I needed to be more prepared for the next time. And that hooker wouldn't have done me any good, anyway, even if I had bopped her over the head right there in that alley with my hammer. I need a girl I can bring home. What am I going to do, bring a hooker home on the bus?
No, I didn't kill anyone that day. What about the time I did commit murder, you ask? Listen, who's telling this story, anyway? I'll tell you about the murder in a minute.
I begin to search my horoscopes every day for guidance. I figure I want the next time to be just right.
Then, one day, there it is. I get all excited.
Wait, let me look in my scrapbook and I can read to you exactly what it says. Looks like March twenty-sixth. Anyway, here it is: Outlook for the day: Excellent. This is a good day to follow up on new prospects while putting a high value on your skills and knowledge. A major decision you make now can lead to good results if you show courage and faith. In order to take advantage of what is offered, you must see things through to completion.
Now, you can just bet that's a direct order from the stars telling me I need to act again. Can't you understand this? I keep telling you that all things we do are pre-ordained; it's in the stars.
So this time, I decide to stick around closer to my mother's house because I need to bring a girl home with me. I figure, maybe a nicer, inexperienced girl might be easier to grab than that stupid hooker. But no matter who it is, she has to be a redhead.
So I do what my horoscope says. I decide to have courage and faith, and to use my skills and knowledge. I gained knowledge after that hooker incident. I know what to do this time, I will take advantage of what is offered. I won't go seeking, instead, I will wait for a redhead to come to me.
I decide that since my horoscope says the outlook for the day is excellent, I can go out of the house. I can run some errands. I have courage, and I have faith that the stars will put a redhead in my path. I know that my destiny is about to be realized.
Anyway, I put the hammer under my jacket again because I'm sure the stars are going to provide someone for me. I go to the grocery store because I need a gallon of milk. I don't need a car for that, because it's only two blocks away from my mother's house and I can walk.
I go into the store, and sure enough, there's a redhead working there. She's a checker. She must be new because I've been to the grocery store lots of times and I've never seen her before. See what I mean about the stars? They have control of our lives. Everything is pre-ordained.
So I'm not surprised to walk into the store and what do you know, there's a redhead. Now, I will grant you that she's not very good-looking, sort of dumpy and all, but who cares, it's only the color of the hair that matters.
I decide to forget the milk and buy something simple just to get nearer to her. I pick up a diet soda and stand in her line. When I get near to her, I feel sort of tingly inside. I feel happy. I know I have courage and faith, and that this is the opportunity my horoscope promised. I know I must see things to completion, which means that although I will leave this store now, I'll be waiting outside for this woman. Waiting just for her.
What do you mean, did I choose her at random? Aren't you listening? Nothing in this world is random, it's all in the stars. That woman was put in the grocery store for a reason. So to answer your question, no, I didn't choose her at random, the stars chose her for me. I only do what my horoscope tells me. You just don't listen, do you? No wonder I think you're inferior. It's because you are.
Oh, is that right? Well fuck you, too.
Listen, asshole, you want me to go on with this story or not?
You know, the only reason I'm talking to you in the first place today is because today's horoscope told me to. Otherwise, I'd sure blow you off.
Well, I've got to remember to be patient with people like you. I'm special; I'm in tune to the stars. Most people are just average, so they don't have the ability to understand the stars. Only special people like me have the ability to read horoscopes correctly.
Okay, back to what I was saying. Where was I? Oh yeah.
Anyway, I wait until the store closes. I hang around, because I mean, what if the redhead only works part time? She'd leave early, before closing, and if I go back home, I'll miss her. Now, I know I look weird hanging out for a couple of hours in front of the grocery store, but I keep remembering that my horoscope says to have courage and faith, so I hang out in the parking lot...waiting.
It's a Ma and Pa store, so it closes at eight-thirty. It's only March, so it's dark already. Days are still sort of short. I'm glad it's dark; I know it will make things easier.
I see the woman come out of the store, and again I feel good, sort of tingly. Maybe it's anticipation. I don't know, but it's really cool how I feel. I feel excited, happy, powerful. I feel superior over this woman who is too dumb to realize that she shouldn't be walking all alone in a dark parking lot. But then I remember, this is all pre-ordained by the stars. Maybe the woman is smarter at other times. But tonight is not her night; this is my night.
I silently follow the woman, crouching among the parked cars. There're not many cars right now, but it's dark and the woman seems preoccupied anyway so she has no idea that I am stalking her. I am thinking to myself: This is so easy. I am meant to do this.
I sneak up behind her. I glance around quickly. All is quiet. There's no one around to interfere. This parking lot isn't very well lighted, and this store makes the employees park in the farthest parking spaces so that the customers can park close. All to my advantage.
I slide my hammer out from underneath my jacket. I feel the rough wooden handle in the palm of my hand. I grip it tightly, but the hard wood does not give. I move the hammer and see the dim streetlight reflecting off the metal top. It looks very powerful in my hand; the hammer makes me feel powerful.
I know it's time and I can feel my heart pound. This is really happening! I am this woman's destiny, and this woman is my destiny. My heart soars.
I am right behind her. I watch as she fumbles in her purse for her car key. That gives me the right opportunity. With courage and faith, I lift my arm and swiftly bring the hammer down on the woman's head.
It's more than I could ever ask for. The woman drops silently to the ground, landing in a heap. She is sprawled on the black tar of the parking lot, motionless.
I feel exhilaration. I feel potent; almost omnipotent. It is glorious how I so efficiently fulfill the commands of the stars. I am special! Looking at the woman lying unconscious on the ground merely reminds me of my superiority: I am better than this average woman lying limp beneath me.
You keep interrupting me. You keep asking me about the murder. I'm not at the murder part of this story yet, okay?
What?
You want to know why I murdered? Listen, I told you I'm not at the murder part yet. So far I haven't killed anybody.
Hey, I'm going to tell this story either my way or no way. If you want to hear the rest, then you can just shut up and listen. You already read me my Miranda rights, so I know I don't have to talk to any cops, much less a rude one like you. Consider yourself lucky that I am talking.
Damn, you keep interrupting me, and now I forget where I was. Oh yeah, the redhead. I just bopped her one over the head.
Well, I need to take this girl home, see? So I figure, she has her car keys in her hand. Probably the stars plan
ned that too. Anyway, I told you I don't drive because the DMV won't give me a driver's license, but that doesn't mean I can't drive.
So I pick up the redhead from the ground. I'm surprised at how heavy she is, but she's none too slim, you know? Dead weight and all that. Ha, that's funny. She feels like dead weight, but she isn't dead. She's only unconscious.
I realize it's easier to drag her, so I do that until I have her at the passenger side of the car. I push her inside, and sort of prop her up. She looks like she could be sleeping. Works for me.
I go back around the car and get in the driver's side. All this time, I keep thinking, Man oh man, my horoscope will never let me down. This is just so cool.
I feel like I want to rejoice. It is like I am drunk with power and I know I can do anything, as long as the stars guide me.
I turn the car toward my mother's house and drive off. I am bringing home my prize.
I am so excited! Only two blocks away.
Finally I reach my mother's house and I park in the back. I am taking the girl inside the house, going in through the back way. Nobody will catch me, because my horoscope said there would be good results if I follow through to completion.
And now is the time for completion.
This woman I'm dragging into my house is supposed to be my sister. My sister was a redhead. Now you see why the hair color is so important?
What do you mean that you don't understand how a stranger can substitute for my sister? God, you are so dense. Don't you get it? My sister was killed when she was little, run over by a car. I figure she'd be grown up by now if she were still alive.
My mother always wants my sister. My mother still cries over her. My mother tells me all the time that I'm second best. You know, how it should have been me who got run over by that car instead of my sister because I'm, well, damaged…and my sister was perfect.
My mother needs to quit thinking that I'm damaged. I'm really just different. And as you know, different means special. I told you that I am superior to the average people in this world. I'm different, not damaged.
But my mother always wants my sister. So I figure, what the hell, I'll bring my sister back. Maybe then my mother will like me, too. We could be a real family again.
So, this redhead is my gift to my mother. This is my sister.
There you go again, interrupting me. Don't worry, I'm getting to the murder part. Quit rushing me.
I figure if this redhead isn't quite right, and my mother doesn't think she's good enough to be my sister, then I'll just get rid of this redhead and find another one. I could try this or that one on for size as my sister. You know, life is really very simple if people are smart enough to put things in perspective. It doesn't have to be rocket science.
But because my horoscope is so positive for this day, I am pretty convinced that this is the right redhead to be my sister.
But something is wrong now. To this very moment, I still can't figure it out. I can't understand what is wrong. I keep looking at my scrapbook, and my horoscope doesn't change for that day. Horoscopes are always right. So what is wrong?
Do you think I lost that special ability to be able to really be in tune with the stars? Did I suddenly stop being able to read my horoscope correctly?
It's confusing and upsetting.
But now I'm getting to the murder part. You happy? It's what you've been waiting to hear.
My mother's reaction is what's wrong. Here I have her daughter in my arms. Alive. Here's the perfect sister that she's been wanting all these years. I have done the most wonderful thing in the world. I have brought my sister back from the dead.
Why is my mother screaming? What the hell?
Shut up! Shut the hell up!
Look at your daughter! Don't you want her back? What's the matter with you? I did this for you! Don't you appreciate it?
Oh man.
I let the girl go, and she falls to the floor. I am really confused now.
I decide that this must not be the right redhead. So I have to kill my sister. I reach into my jacket and pull out the hammer.
But then I realize that my sister is already dead. She was run over by a car, a lot of years ago.
How can I kill someone who is already dead?
Okay, here it is—what you've wanted to know. We're finally reached the murder part of my story.
I don't kill the redhead. But my mother is being so rude.
Now do you finally understand why I am justified in killing my mother?
THE HOUSE ON HENLEY WAY
by Jeani Rector
"You have to tell them," Nick said.
Mandy sighed. "I'm so close to a sale. I can feel it in my bones. The wife loves the home."
"You know the full disclosure law in California," Nick told her. "In California, sellers have to notify buyers if a death occurred on the property within the past three years. If it was a murder, the buyers have to be told no matter when it happened."
"Some buyers are creeped out by that knowledge," Mandy said, frowning.
"At least be glad your buyers aren't looking at the Dorothea Puente house over there on F Street," Nick said. "Those weren't exactly flowers that Dorothea planted in the ground. That old bat committed murder times eight."
She ignored his sardonic grin. "Well, it's just that in this recession, sales are so hard to come by. Frankly, I need a sale."
"Don't we all," Nick said. "It's not exactly a boom for realtors. But things will turn around. You know that the housing market is cyclical."
"Unfortunately, my bills won't wait for any turnaround," Mandy said. "A sale on Henley Way could do me a lot of good."
"Que sera sera. It means whatever will be, will be."
She started toward the office door. "I know what it means. Don't start singing that old song or it'll be stuck in my head all day."
He grinned again as she went out.
She got into her car and started the engine, deep in thought. She knew that Nick had been right. She was bound by California law to disclose what had happened in the Henley Way house.
But it was so long ago, she thought. Surely it wouldn't matter after all these years.
Nonetheless, she was supposed to tell the prospective buyers the truth.
Mandy drove to Henley Way, where she was going to meet the young couple interested in the house. She had arrived too early on purpose, because she wanted some time alone to think. She pulled up in front of the house, turned off her engine, put her hands on the steering wheel, and stared.
It looked like any other house.
It was tan with white trim; a typical tract house. It was a ranch-style one-story, just like every other house on the block. Who would figure that this house was any different? Nothing about its appearance made it stand out from the rest.
She had a decision to make. And so she made it.
No one reads the fine print in the escrow paperwork, she thought. There are so many pages to sign at a closing that no one reads them. The buyers just initial and sign.
She figured that since there were no such things as ghosts, there would be no problems, and therefore, no consequences if she kept her mouth shut. The wife loved the house, and she needed the sale. It would be a win/win situation.
Amber opened one of the many boxes that littered the kitchen floor of her new house.
It was taking her all day to unpack. Her husband wasn't any help since he was away on a business trip. It seemed that just as soon as they closed escrow and moved in, Kevin had to leave again on business.
In fact, that was one of the reasons they bought a home. Kevin felt that Amber needed something to take her mind off the fact that she was alone a lot of the time while he traveled. He told her that if they bought a house, she could decorate it any way she wanted.
Amber had been thrilled. There was only one thing she wanted more than a house, and that was a baby. Kevin had told her they weren't ready for that kind of responsibility, but Amber figured that since they had bought a new
house, it would make sense to fill it with a baby. She felt that with time, she could talk Kevin into it.
Certainly they had the space now, and she loved this house; for some reason, when she had looked at it with the realtor, it had spoken to her...whispering promises.
The new house wasn't exactly new, having been built in 1960. Still, it was a three bedroom, two bath, ranch-style tract home that had over 1,500 square feet. That was a lot of space for only two people. A baby could fill the space.
And so Amber unpacked by herself in her new home. She hadn't had time to look for a job in this new town, and reveled in the idea that at least for a while, she could live a life of luxury by not having to go to work. Of course, once they started paying the mortgage, she would need to find a part time job.
But on this day, she wasn't going to worry about it. She was going to unpack a few things and begin nesting; preparing for the baby that she knew would arrive. She wanted a boy, how she hoped she and Kevin would have a son.
She glanced at a window, and couldn't believe it when she saw it was raining. How could it be raining? The weather had been so beautiful just the day before.
It rarely rained during May in Sacramento, but on that Friday it rained all day. The dark sky seemed to dampen Amber's mood, and her high spirits changed to anxiety.
Because of the rain, night came faster, throwing its ebony blanket over the town to change it from a place of friendly openness into a place of menacing shadows. Amber found herself wishing that Kevin were home. Earlier, Amber had been enjoying her new house, but now that it was night, she found herself nervous to be there alone.
She had nothing to do. She didn't have cable hooked up yet, and there was no antenna, so she couldn't watch television. She tried to read a book, but all she had was a murder mystery and reading that would make her even more nervous. She didn't want to unpack any more, because she had been doing that most of the day and now she was sick of it.
What Fears Become: An Anthology from The Horror Zine Page 40
